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Chapter 9
“DoyoumeantosaythatyouthinkImaygiveyouaway?”heaskedinanunsteadyvoice.“Why?WhyshouldIdothat?”
“WhatdoIknow?Whynot?Togainadayperhaps.ItwouldtakeSotilloadaytogivemetheestrapade,andtrysomeotherthingsperhaps,beforeheputsabulletthroughmyheart—ashedidtothatpoorwretchhere.Whynot?”
Thedoctorswallowedwithdifficulty.Histhroathadgonedryinamoment.Itwasnotfromindignation.Thedoctor,patheticallyenough,believedthathehadforfeitedtherighttobeindignantwithanyone—foranything.Itwassimpledread.Hadthefellowheardhisstorybysomechance?Ifso,therewasanendofhisusefulnessinthatdirection.Theindispensablemanescapedhisinfluence,becauseofthatindelibleblotwhichmadehimfitfordirtywork.Afeelingasofsicknesscameuponthedoctor.Hewouldhavegivenanythingtoknow,buthedarednotclearupthepoint.Thefanaticismofhisdevotion,fedonthesenseofhisabasement,hardenedhisheartinsadnessandscorn.
“Whynot,indeed?”hereechoed,sardonically.“Thenthesafethingforyouistokillmeonthespot.Iwoulddefendmyself.ButyoumayjustaswellknowIamgoingaboutunarmed.”
“PorDios!”saidtheCapataz,passionately.“Youfinepeopleareallalike.Alldangerous.Allbetrayersofthepoorwhoareyourdogs.”
“Youdonotunderstand,”beganthedoctor,slowly.